Mad Tales of a Lovethirsty Falcon Knight
by selenia-sopheria
Summary: Volume thirty-seven. Of thirty-seven. Gaius/Sumia


**Sumia's fascination with novels has piqued my fascination with her. Combine that with my love for Gaius/Sumia, and this is the result.**

"**Mad Tales of a Bloodthirsty Falcon Knight" and "Madame Shambles" appear respectively in Sumia and the Avatar's B- and A- supports.**

**This pair is just so. darn. adorable.**

* * *

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, a fragile, timid bird of a knight, one certainly unfit to be a heroine. Reality weighed her down, reduced her to bashful oodles; she had to escape. A demure mouse such as herself did not have the strength to endure the daunting task that lay ahead—thus, she groped into the sublime rift of fantasy for her persona's mask, an overwhelming desire to get a grip on some _bravery_.

And then she caught it, placed it on, and asked her reflection, "Sumia? Who in blazes is that?"

Plan A was now initiated.

"_I see that which others are unable!"_ she cried, attempting to get a proper grip on the fantasy-horse's reins. The reflection now donned a fierce look, body conveying alertness instead of its former slumping.

"_In shadows dark lurk demons and devils!"_ Pink flooded her cheeks, but she fought to dismiss it. This was hardly embarrassing, she told herself. This was bravery, and would serve as a great asset to the future task—something her cowardly inner self would not be able to handle. As such, she channeled her inner heroine, and after countless nights of flipping through the novel's pages, aching eyes attentively scanning each word and each action and each detail, she let it all out.

"_I am Madame Shambles, and I see what others cannot in shadows dark!"_

Excellent.

Hotness still lingered on her face, but she pushed away the nagging fact that the rest of the camp had heard every ounce of her heart she'd just poured out. Nevertheless, she beamed—with a hint of a smirk, for it was how Madame Shambles displayed her bold prowess. It would do no good to lose the grip on her character here.

Her next case was a difficult one. He was a thief; as such, darkness, thicker than usual and harder to intercept, clouded around his heart, protecting his most sacred treasure… and soon to be—here she blushed—_hers_.

It was the key to ending her trials, to beginning a new life in happiness, comfort, euphoria. But only if she succeeded. Madame Shambles would be Madame Harmony; she would no longer see any demons lurking in the dark after this. No—only joy, the fruit of her strenuous labor.

With one last resolute glance at the mirror, accompanied by a determined purse of lips, she felt her soul exit the body of Sumia and into the superiority of the madam.

Her heart pounded vigorously in her chest as she strode towards her client's tent, and she scolded it inwardly. _Stop that this instance; I am Madame Shambles, and though my name suggests otherwise, I am collected, in control, and am not such a weakling so as to let your antics faze me!_ She squeezed the book in her left hand for assurance, its comforting feel acting as support in case she was to falter.

She arrived finally at his tent-step, stopping dead in her tracks. Amazingly, she had withstood the first couple of trials without receiving a single scratch—that was, she hadn't _tripped_. So her "stride" may have edged closer to a wobble, but it was great progress, especially with that blasted heartbeat's attempts to intervene.

She allowed herself two quick seconds to compose herself, forcing her inwardly-whirling head to get a grip, and latched her fingers on the tent flap. And she _swung_ that thing open.

Her client just about leaped ten feet into the air, hastily making a movement too quick for her eyes to comprehend. Strange. He wasn't normally so jumpy. But that gave her the feeling of the upper hand, and while he was composed again in a flash, she shot him a fierce expression, the same she'd practiced in the mirror. He seemed to notice her unusual behavior. Nevertheless, he was the first to speak up, donning a grin.

"Sumia! Just the girl I wanted to—"

"Hush," she whispered, closing the distance between them within a split-second. Her finger rested on his lips, earning from him an astounded expression at her boldness, and a flush from herself. She felt ready to explode then, but everything she was doing—and was about to do—was staged, was practiced, and was not going to waste because of a mental trip on her part. Without a doubt, she looked rather silly, but she pressed on: "An unnatural darkness surrounds your heart, eating at your soul and that which you hold dearest. Demons have been prepared to devour you for the longest time, but rest easy: I am here."

She'd expected him to be stunned into silence by her antics, but instead, he waved her finger away from his mouth and gave her this odd half-smile, bearing amusement but a hint of impatience. "Listen, this is real cute and everything, but I need you to hear me out right now."

"As do I!" she blurted out, flaming at her outburst, louder than she'd liked, but fought for the right to speak. She would _not_ lose the momentum she'd been building up until this point. "Your cause is an urgent one, and as it stands, I am the only one able to reverse your condition. I can see the shadows; they crawl around your soul, inching closer and closer to your heart as we speak! They start from the extent of your face," she said, gingerly placing her hand on his cheek, "and slowly make their way down to the very source of your being, the most powerful, yet the most fragile." Her voice enchanted even herself, nothing like the shaky, girlish one her weaker side carried. The back of her other hand, still clutching the novel, rested against his chest; she struggled for a bit, because that dang teddy-bear lollipop was in the way, but she soon felt his heartbeat reverberating through her hand. She was ecstatic to feel it beating faster than natural, and that was fuel to help keep her in character.

Now she lifted her head to look up at him, and his eyes waited expectantly for what she would do next.

He'd given her the floor, and by the gods would she _dance_ on it.

In a burning rush of passion and momentum, she crushed her lips into his.

The final battle had begun! Everything her client held dear would be determined by Madame Shambles's performance, and by his tense of shock, she was able to tell she was doing a godly good job. But he wasn't pushing _back_! The tiny devils dancing on his lips would not be eliminated unless both sides successfully trapped them within two pressuring forces. If he would not comply, she would make him.

She tangled her fingers in the hair behind his head, and with a firm grip, she pulled his face into hers.

Her heart throbbed violently in her ears, the air surrounding her ignited with Madame Shambles's fervent fury—it made her squirm, but she wouldn't rest. Not until her passion devoured the darkness and she claimed what would be rightfully hers.

He stopped resisting midway, and even—to her delight—began doing his part.

The fight lasted for almost a minute, until she was forced to pull back to replenish her stamina. Her arms still lingered around his neck, and his around her waist. She found herself in his eyes, still breathing heavily, but caught in a moment of weakness where her knees felt like absolute _gelatin_. She swam in his emeralds for a while, while he summed up what in Naga's name had just happened with an eloquent "whoa."

She never felt the redness disappear from her face, but she'd gotten better at ignoring it. As such, she wore a triumphant smirk, relishing in her successful mission. Only one more step remained.

But she felt her heart plummet when he released her and took a wary step back.

"Wow. Um. Holy _cripes_. You sure caught me off-guard there, Stumbles."

"Who is this '_Stumbles_'?" she roared, determined to keep the upper hand and, most importantly, stay in character. "I am Madame Shambles, and I see what others cannot in shadows dark!"

She didn't mean to upset him, heavens no, but the look he flashed her was undoubtedly irritated. Then he released this strange sigh, and drawled, "Alright, _Madame Shambles_. My demons are gone—_great_. Now go fetch me this girl named Sumia, would you?"

"Huh?" She felt herself lose composure.

"I thought you were her, but I guess I was wrong. You did what you came here for, didn't you? Then leave, and bring her to me while you're at it. I have something… important to ask her." She almost lost it right there, when the lightest shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

He'd just told Madame Shambles off. And openly preferred _Sumia_.

She was speechless.

By the gods, she must have looked like a madwoman.

Reluctantly, she felt herself ghost away from her façade's shell, and she took an uncertain step back into the real world. And she almost tripped.

Was he toying with her? Or was she wrong this entire time?

Her voice was tiny and demure, like a mouse. "Hello, Gaius."

His bitter expression brightened almost instantly, and she felt her heart soar. He flashed her that same buoyant smile from the beginning of their conversation; the blush on her cheeks was no longer a result of self-embarrassment, but happiness. Mentally, she steeled herself for what he was about to say, and she returned to him a warm smile.

"Sumia! Just the girl I wanted to see. I've got something for you."

Moments later, she proudly wore a ring that only Sumia would have been able to earn.

Perhaps she would stay in reality more often.

And carve a fitting end to her own novel… the story of her life, and how _Sumia_ had been able to achieve love all on her own.


End file.
